His spirit inspired me with great respect. He
seemed to have no strength, and he never once hit
me hard, and he was always knocked down; but, he would
be up again in a moment, sponging himself or drinking
out of the water-bottle, with the greatest satisfaction
in seconding himself according to form, and then came
at me with an air and a show that made me believe
he really was going to do for me at last. He
got heavily bruised, for I am sorry to record that
the more I hit him, the harder I hit him; but, he came
up again and again and again, until at last he got
a bad fall with the back of his head against the wall.
Even after that crisis in our affairs, he got up
and turned round and round confusedly a few times,
not knowing where I was; but finally went on his knees
to his sponge and threw it up: at the same time
panting out, “That means you have won.”
He seemed so brave and innocent, that although I had
not proposed the contest I felt but a gloomy satisfaction
in my victory. Indeed, I go so far as to hope
that I regarded myself while dressing, as a species
of savage young wolf, or other wild beast. However,
I got dressed, darkly wiping my sanguinary face at
intervals, and I said, “Can I help you?”
and he said “No thankee,” and I said “Good
afternoon,” and he said “Same to you.”
When I got into the court-yard, I found Estella waiting
with the keys. But, she neither asked me where
I had been, nor why I had kept her waiting; and there
was a bright flush upon her face, as though something
had happened to delight her. Instead of going
straight to the gate, too, she stepped back into the
passage, and beckoned me.
“Come here! You may kiss me, if you like.”
I kissed her cheek as she turned it to me. I
think I would have gone through a great deal to kiss
her cheek. But, I felt that the kiss was given
to the coarse common boy as a piece of money might
have been, and that it was worth nothing.
What with the birthday visitors, and what with the
cards, and what with the fight, my stay had lasted
so long, that when I neared home the light on the
spit of sand off the point on the marshes was gleaming
against a black night-sky, and Joe’s furnace
was flinging a path of fire across the road.
Chapter 12
My mind grew very uneasy on the subject of the pale
young gentleman. The more I thought of the fight,
and recalled the pale young gentleman on his back
in various stages of puffy and incrimsoned countenance,
the more certain it appeared that something would
be done to me. I felt that the pale young gentleman’s
blood was on my head, and that the Law would avenge
it. Without having any definite idea of the penalties
I had incurred, it was clear to me that village boys
could not go stalking about the country, ravaging
the houses of gentlefolks and pitching into the studious
youth of England, without laying themselves open to
